


Thicker Than Water

by OpusEye



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Brother-Sister Relationships, F/M, Family Dynamics, Family Feels, Gangsters, Infidelity, Marriage, Organized Crime, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-12 10:32:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15337977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpusEye/pseuds/OpusEye
Summary: 8 stories about each member of the Shelby family.The gypsies had a saying that once the bee landed in a pot of honey, it would feed on it till it drowned. The proverb was right in its’ meaning. Greed fed greed, power fed power. And the man that entered the cycle could rarely ever resurface.But, the thing with the bees was that they didn’t have the fucking Shelbys for a family.Tommy did.





	1. Thomas Michael Shelby

_ Do not go gently into that good night, rage, rage against the dying of the light _

\- Dylan Thomas

 

Ambitious.

That's what they called him. They said he was ambitious, power-hungry. But, Tommy knew what he had was not just ambition. It was getting what he deserved.

In the trenches of France, digging the tunnels for the bloody King, Tommy had dreamt of home. It was all that kept him afloat during the war. He had dreamt up this paradise of a home, where him and his family had all the power, all the glory, all the money. And as he dug through the mud and the blood, Tommy understood one thing. Is that whatever he dreamt of, he deserved. 

The medal didn't fucking matter.

The honor didn't fucking matter.

Him and all the men that fought in all that bloody men deserved the money, they deserved the power. And he vowed to himself that if he had to cut down all the bastards sitting on their asses to get it, he would. 

So, he built an empire. Brick by brick, he made himself the King of Birmingham and then, the King of London. His family was where he wanted them to be. Everything was where he wanted them to be.

He had Grace. And till this day, he couldn't understand how he did. Because the human heart was not like any of the conquests. The human heart was volatile, it was easily changeable. And having the heart of a woman like Grace was not an easy feat. 

Grace was… exquisite. She had a quiet power to her. It was so subtle that it was barely noticeable. But, it was his life’s biggest mistake to overlook it. She was a dangerous woman, she was a beautiful woman. Grace saw him, she saw his essence and she understood him. To have her in his life was Tommy’s biggest blessing.

Her loss, on the other hand, had been his biggest regret.

If Tommy had believed in God, he would've said that her death was his wake up call. It was God telling him that it was it. He had gotten all he wanted, he didn't need anymore, that it was his greed and power-hunger speaking now. That his wife’s death was because Tommy was asking too much of the world and now the world would take just as much.

But, Tommy didn't believe in God.

He lost sight of God in the war. He said to himself that if God existed, then he could not be the benevolent being that the world portrayed him to be. Only a monster would wreck so much havoc upon men. And Tommy would neither pray, nor believe, to monsters.

He should've never entered the deal with the Russians. In hindsight, it was probably one of his worse decisions. It was arrogance speaking in him. It was want of more. The ever gnawing hunger chewing on his bones and greed that was larger than his soul. It had caused all this mess. It has caused all this death.

“ When you forget your family, Tommy, that's when all the mess starts”, his mother once told him, after he had a huge fight with his brothers and Ada, “ Never forget family. Always remember, blood is thicker than water. Your family will be there when nothing else will”.

His mother was a wise woman. Perhaps, the wisest he has known. She was much like Grace in that way. She had subtle power, almost invisible, until you were met with it face-to-face.

Sometimes, he could hear her speaking in his mind, advising him, telling him what was right and what was wrong. But, he had stopped listening a long time ago. He had lost all his roots, he had forgotten the meaning of family. And he had been paid back for it.

The gypsies had a saying that once the bee landed in a pot of honey, it would feed on it till it drowned. The proverb was right in its’ meaning. Greed fed greed, power fed power. And the man that entered the cycle could rarely ever resurface.

But, the thing with the bees was that they didn’t have the fucking Shelbys for a family.

Tommy did.


	2. Elizabeth “Polly” Gray (née Shelby)

_ Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. _

-William Congreve

 

If there was one thing that Polly absolutely couldn’t stand behind, it was people talking shit.

Living in a man’s world taught Polly that men tended to talk a lot of shit. At first, she had been intimidated by them. She would scramble around and look fearful, causing them to cackle like fucking hyenas. She had been as innocent as a spring flower back then. But, like all things innocent in Birmingham, she was chewed up and spat out looking as dirty as a bloody coal mine.

The root of it all had been her brother.

He was all talk about taking over their father’s betting shop. Arthur was like that. He would talk you up all sweet and dandy and then leave you with a burden the size of fucking England. 

He did the same thing to Tara. Promised her the world and the stars and then left her with a litter of children while he went around with whores and drinks. In the end, it was all Polly and Tara who helped out her mum and dad with the shop. 

They did the dirty jobs no women would even consider doing. Polly lied and cheated and sliced up more men than she ever dreamt of doing as a little girl.  But, she never wanted that life. She's always just wanted to live quietly in the countryside with her children or something like that. She envied Tara and her children. Even without a proper, stable husband, Tara never complained even once.

“ My children are the light of my life”, she explained to Polly when she asked her how she did it, “ The purpose of my life is keeping them happy. I don't live for nobody but my children”.

Her response struck a note in Polly because she remembered the time when she could've had a family. She remembered being a sixteen year old girl, pregnant by some man she met at the pub and dropped her panties for the same night. She remembered how she had gotten rid of the baby and cried for hours later, mourning its’ loss. 

Polly had been too afraid to think about having a family since then but she was lonely. She was sad. She needed somebody, she needed a family of her own. 

That was what drove her to marry Gilbert Gray so quickly.

He had charmed her. Being a river gypsy, Gilbert had both a free spirit and mind. He was a dreamer, he was a romantic. He told Polly that all her dreams would come through once she married him.

So, she did.

She stepped out of the business. Gilbert took up her job and got her a nice house by Watery Lane. Not nice by many others’ standards, but it was more than enough for Polly at the time. She had been so young and in love. 

Polly had children by Gilbert and lived a quiet life at home with the occasional church outing. She adored her children. Gave them all she could. She coddled them and spoiled them and was afraid, more than anything else, of the harm her family would do on them. 

When the Parrish took them away, she was heartbroken. She wouldn't get out of the house for a year, she couldn't even look at herself. Gilbert was getting himself drunk and eventually, it was his undoing. His consequent death after Sally and Michael were taken only further broke Polly more.

But, slowly, she rose out of the ashes, more bitter and broken than ever. It was that moment in her life that set her determined to get her family to win. She took all the pain, all the bitterness, and put into her work at the shop. 

Polly became good at the game. Better than most of the men at the shop. Her father saw that, even Arthur saw that. Polly wouldn't stutter and quiver no more. She had been born a sheep in a lion’s den but she became the lioness.

But, unlike Tommy, she always thought of family first. She thought of her nieces and nephews. She protected them all their life, especially after Tara’s passing. And more than anything, she'd wanted them to succeed.

That was her purpose for a while. Power, control, money, all for taking for the Shelbys.

She lived by that motto. Protecting the children where she could and pushing them to take more when they couldn't. She became the matriarch of a criminal empire. She was their Queen. Polly was getting it all. Power, money, control.

But, deep inside, she still hurt.  She was still heartbroken. There was a part of her that left with Michael and Sally on the day that the Parrish took them. A part of herself that she'd lost and found yet again in Michael.

When he appeared into her life, Polly felt whole again. She felt alive again. The money didn't matter. The power didn't matter. All that mattered was that her son was home. All that mattered was that they were a family once again.

But she was already sunk in deep in the dirty business. Soon enough, she knew that she would drag her son in it with her. And her biggest fears would come true.

But, heaven and hell know that she'd rather die than see them true.


	3. Arthur Shelby Jr.

_ Men make up in wrath what they want in reason _

\- William R. Alger

 

Arthur Shelby never understood the burdens of being the eldest.

The children were always looked after by Polly and his mum, while he went around with his granddad and dad, hunting, playing, doing business. While Tommy preferred to listen silently and do the work, Arthur mostly had fun. He never liked the burden of responsibility. He liked the booze, the women, the music and the crowd. It was like he was born for it.

He lived like that for a long time. Playing, drinking, fighting, gambling. The only time his pace of life really stopped was when they buried their mother. Suddenly, his siblings all looked up for him to take responsibility over the house. But, Arthur was not ready. In his mind, things would be the way they were all the time. His mother would always be there to put everyone in line, Polly would be there to scold the kids and Arthur could go ‘round pubs like he used to.

So, where Arthur couldn’t step up, Tommy did.

He helped Ada out with her school work. He got John a job at the betting shop. Him and Polly worked with his grandfather with the bets. He put Polly and Ada in charge of their Finn. Arthur was just left in the sidelines, still curing the hangover he’d gotten last week.

Since then, he never caught up. There was always something stopping him from doing what he wanted. Because he knew what he wanted, he knew how to get it, but in the end, he just couldn’t do it. For most of his youth, it was what ate him up. He would sit alone in the pub sometimes, lamenting the disappointment that he was. 

But, the next day, he’d come back to the same pub, drink the same spirits and fuck the same whores.

It was essentially how he lived before the war. But, the war changed everything. 

Tommy wæs somewhere tunnelling, probably going through hell, and him and John were in sappers, building their way through France. Some nights, he didn’t know if he’d wake up to see the light of day. There was endless fear instilled him and an endless rage from all the fighting. Anger became a part of him during the war. It was what defined him from the time that he killed all those men in blind rage.

Arthur forgot who he was during the war. He forgot his purpose. He forgot his dreams. He forgot everything except for the rage and the fury. Even after he left France, France never left him. It haunted him in his dreams, in the light of day, in the serenity of the night.

He lived like that for a long time. Miserable, desperate for something that he could not define. He floated through life with severe relapses and blues, contrasted only by the explosive joy he’d get from doing the things that he did before the war. Gambling, fighting, fucking, raiding, drinking. He lived for moments like that. In them, Arthur found momentary purpose. While Tommy was all about determination for power, John was all about bringing glory to their whole family, Arthur was about the fun. 

But, living like that didn’t reflect well on Arthur. He got addicted to cocaine. He drank himself into oblivion. He all control of himself and his responsibilities. This time, it was even worse than it was before the war because of the added anguish from hearing explosions in your head when they weren’t there.

He had considered killing himself a lot of times due to that.

Because he couldn't bear through the time. It consumed him. It destroyed him.

But, then, came Linda.

Linda was like a light that shined into his life. He met her in church when he came there during mass for some kind of answers to his life. She had been there, smiling that small smile of hers that made Arthur warm all over. He wanted to do right by her. She was the one thing that he didn’t want to screw up. He invited her to a date, like proper blokes did these days. He took her to pictures, bought her flowers and chocolates. He adorned her with all the love and affection he could muster.

In return, Linda showed him the way. She showed him the will of God, the right path of things. Linda showed him the beauty in his suffering and the path that he could take to get rid of all the demons in his head. And just as she told him, as soon as he started listening to her, he had felt better. He felt as if he was reborn, baptized in his tears anew. 

But the spell that she seemingly had cast upon him didn’t last a long time. Even after he put back the cocaine and the bottle, he couldn’t resist the pleasures of the flesh. He cheated on Linda.  And, as he did so, he hated himself like he never did before. The misery, the desperation, seemed to awaken in his once again.

So, even as he prepared himself for heaven with his wife, Arthur knew that, in the end, he’d end up in hell. But, Arthur couldn’t imagine a pain worse in hell than the one in his heart. He figured, it was better that way.

At least he’d burn in hell with his brothers.


	4. John Michael Shelby

_ It gives me strength to have somebody to fight for; I can never fight for myself, but, for others, I can kill. _

\- Emilie Autumn

John Shelby always put family above all else.

Polly often noted that he got that trait from his mother, ferocious till the end in her loyalty to the Shelbys and her children. But, John always thought it was because he was the youngest out of their set of three brothers. Tommy was always the one who  thought of the plan, Arthur was the one that charged into it like a crazy bull and John was left to being the one that always followed behind. 

It was the same loyalty that had gotten him married so early. 

The moment the girl he was seeing, a pretty little nurse called Martha, announced that she was pregnant by him, he had no choice but to marry her. Not that he did not love her. It was just then, he wasn’t thinking of his feelings. He was thinking of the duty he had before her, before their unborn child. That’s how, at seventeen, he had been at the altar, shaking as he was about to see his bride down the aisle.

In the end, it hadn’t turned out so bad. He loved Martha. She was kind, she was understanding and she was probably the most beautiful girl in their entire neighborhood. She had been the greatest mother to their children, which they had a surprisingly large amount of. Martha first gave birth to John’s twins, Matthew and Mary, both near carbon copies of John. They had the famous Shelby temper but also the smarts that John sometimes sorely lacked that most probably came from their mother. Just after a month of giving birth to their twins, Martha had fallen pregnant with their third child, James. James was a quiet one,  preferring to keep to the books, avoiding much physical confrontation. While others made fun of the poor lad, John always appreciated his son’s sharp intellect. Then, last, came little Katie. But, John hadn’t even gotten to meet her since he was swept up for the war. Martha only discovered that she was pregnant after John left.

And during the war, there was nothing on John’s mind but the war itself. The fight, the blood, the mud was never-ending. Sometimes, John would forget parts of what happened simply because of how shell-shocking it was on him. He remembered being a nineteen year old bloke, crying in his bunk the first week of being deployed in France, praying to see the dirty streets of Birmingham again. 

The only reason that he did not lose his mind as much as Arthur and Tommy did was because he had somebody waiting for him back home. He would get letter from Martha almost daily, her words filling him up with the feeling of safety and love again. She would write about the children, about gossip, about doing the laundry. Martha gave him the hope that John was beginning to rapidly lose. 

It broke him when Polly wrote that she died of influenza. It had been months before the war was due to end and John remembered not being able to think of nothing but violence for those months in attempt to block out the pain of missing her. John was broken by the war, just as his brothers were. But, he couldn't afford to wallow in his pain. He had a family to support, there was money to be made. 

So, he did his duty. He stayed loyal. He protected the honor of his family through high hell and water.

Even when it came down to marriage, John did as his family consulted him to do. 

John was reluctant to love Esme at first. No man wanted to love a woman forced upon him. But, she loved his kids just as fiercely as Martha had. She was a loyal wife, she a good wife.

In the span of three years, Esme gave birth to two children for him, Kit and Tara. Both were much like their mother. They looked more like gypsies than John ever did. They had the wild spirit and the fearlessness of their mother. Like their mother, they neither discriminated, nor asked questions about their siblings from another mother.

John was grateful for Esme. She brought order into his life and some semblance of a family that he thought he'd lost with Martha. She held him as he cried about the war, about the murder, the kids and Martha. Esme listened to him and she loved him. Just as he was, broken and a little damned. John couldn't help but love her back, so strongly that he could feel it reverberate in his heart sometimes.

And as much as his loyalty may have lied with her, as he reminded when she cried as he left with his brothers, at the end, he had a duty before his family.

And if John Shelby was anything, it was dutiful.


	5. Michael Gray

_ The head may err, but never the blood _

\- Atsushi Nakajima

 

It was an odd thing, to be both part of a family and not at the same time.

Although they shared blood, Michael and the Shelbys did not share the name, neither did they share similar experiences. Although he was born in Birmingham, Michael grew up in a small village in Yorkshire. He was Henry Johnson. 

While the Shelbys were all off getting their hands in the dirty business, he was shuffling through dirt and hay like a dumbass. He wasn't of their stock. He wasn’t even technically close family.

But, as John once pointed out to him after he killed the priest, there was a Shelby ruthlessness in him, the anger, the never-ending ferociousness. And indeed, Michael felt it. He felt it all his life, burning inside him, flashing through his thoughts every so now and then. There was a need for more and a knowledge that with enough work, he could get more. 

His adoptive mother recognized it in him but she never understood it. She tried to quell his true nature, coddling him and shoving the Bible in his hands. His classmates, siblings and friends, frankly, were all stupid bastards. Even if he did love them, he resented them all the same. They just didn't seem to understand what went on inside Michael’s mind. They were all talk about the petty, shallow things that all villagers busied themselves with. There was no spark. There was no understanding of the potential to be more.

But, Polly understood it. Her and the Shelbys were the only ones who understood the restlessness, the need and the desire to climb atop. And more than anyone, Tommy understood it best.

Tommy saw it in him and he gave him all that he needed to make his way into the hall of glory. All Michael needed to do was take advantage of that.

So, he became determined to make his life at Birmingham. He was determined to make a name of himself and climb atop alongside the Peaky Blinders. He would burn down Henry Johnson and let Michael Gray rise.

His mother tried to keep him away from the criminality but being with the Peaky Blinders made it unavoidable. He witnessed murders, robberies and laundering of money almost on a daily basis. And although he never participated much in it, his cousins did spill most of the secrets in the private lounge of the Garrison when they were drunk off their asses. 

But, as Michael soon realised, with criminality came money and with money, came lavishness. They attended all sorts parties, even one or two down in London. The Peaky Blinders soon became notorious partiers. But, Michael, he never cared for those things. He knew well enough that the joy in drinking and gambling was momentary. At least, judging by John and Arthur’s retching in the morning.

Instead, Michael worked, worked and worked. He put in the effort, turned a blind eye to the illegal misdealings and made plans for the future. He worked out all the paths and ways to get towards his goals and his carved his way through long nights and exhausting mornings.

Sometimes, he missed his adoptive mother. He missed the simplicity in living the provincial life. The fresh air, the mares that they ket in the stables of the farm. But, in the end, Michael knew he belonged in the smoke and trouble of Birmingham. It was the singing in his blood, the calling of his name. 

Arthur and John, and even Finn, all wanted similar things. Stability, glory, money, notoriety and peace for the family. But, Michael wanted something more from life. It wasn't enough for him to get a wife and a few kids and then work his ass off his entire life providing for them. He was going to be a businessman and he was going to do everything in his power to see that his business succeeded.

He may not have been a Shelby and he may not have not grown up alongside them in Birmingham, but Michael didn't need the name to consider them family. Family was not about names. Family was carved out in blood and tears, bonded through both suffering and happiness.

And if there was anyone who made Michael the happiest, it was his family.


	6. Grace Helen Shelby (née Burgess)

_ Look like the innocent flower but be the serpent underneath _

\- William Shakespeare

 

Grace has always been called elegant, pretty, admirable. Her mother had called her an ‘angel child’, a gift from God. Grace had been the sole daughter of Douglas and Catriona Burgess, after the couple had originally thought that Catriona was infertile. She was their miracle child and she was widely adored by her entire family, if not by her entire neighbourhood.

She received the best education, the best treatment, her mother even got her into piano lessons at some point. But, Grace wasn't interested in all of those things. She didn't want to marry some prominent man like her mother suggested she should do. Grace wanted to see the world, she wanted to experience life in its’ both dirtiest and divine form. 

She remembered running away from home one day, which was completely unexpected by her parents. But, Grace was sick of her house, she was sick of listening to her aunt tell her about that sleazy old Lord that she'd met at some party and wanted Grace to meet. She was sick of the piano lessons and the pretty dresses. Grace wanted to breathe in the fresh air and see honesty for once in her life, no bullshit, no games and no etiquette. She wanted to feel alive and not like a doll put on display.

So, she ran outside of town, dressed up in the dress she took from her maid. Grace didn't know where she was going or where she wanted to go. She boarded on the first train outside of Galway and got off at some know-nothing town in the countryside. She worked in a carpenter shop there for a week before she was found by her father and his copper friends. It was one of Grace’s favourite memories, staying in the inn of that town, helping out he carpenter early in the morning.

When her father found her, he did not say anything. There wasn't a whole lot to say. Her father was not a man of many words but in that silence, Grace sensed that he understood. He understood that she was sick of being on display, that she didn't want that kind of life.

“ Grace, you can do whatever you want with your life. I don't know about your mother but I will not care. I just want you to remember who you are, where you come from”, her father had said.

Grace only nodded then, not able to say much either. She barely listened to his words then, as young and light-headed she was. But, his words haunted her till this day and she wondered if she was doing what he wanted her to do. What she was meant to do.

Her father was an honorable man, one of the most honorable ones she had known. She loved him more than she’d loved anyone else and it was when he died that Grace changed completely. She remembered burying him in the pouring rain, her tears mixing with the rainwater and thinking that her purpose in life was now to bring upon his memory. To make him proud.

But, it was only when Grace met Tommy did she realise that it was not so. Tommy showed her a world full of endless possibilities. He taught her that she could do as she wanted, that she was the mistress of her own life, her own fate. She could become a duchess and a whore and a barmaid in the drop of an eye. Tommy taught her that she didn’t need much more than determination and strength in spirit.

And she loved him. Thinking back to it, Grace hadn’t realised when she fell in love with him. It was so unexpected. He crept up on her and suddenly, he was all Grace could think of. It had broken her heart to realise that she had fallen in love with the enemy. Because not only had she betrayed the Crown, she had also betrayed him.

Leaving him tore Grace’s heart but she knew that it would be the best choice. So, she packed her things and got on the first ferry to New York. She stayed with one of her aunts, who took her to glamourous restaurants and clubs, introducing her to famed gentlemen. 

She had caught the eye of Clive Macmillan, quite the rich banker. He charmed her with his promises of an opulent life in New York and in a way, Grace loved him too. She loved him for his sweetness and consideration. She loved for his American charm and attitude. Grace couldn’t help but agree to marry him.

After all, he was all her mother would’ve dreamt of for Grace’s husband.

But, she didn't love him like Tommy. The all-consuming, almost dangerous love. Tommy made her feel like she was about to jump of a skyscraper. He made her feel alive. He was the feeling she was chasing all her youth wrapped in a person. She missed him. She missed him so much that it times, she wanted to cut her heart out to make the pain stop.

So, when the opportunity came to return to him, she did. She came running into his arms and she finally felt content, at ease. Many of her relatives, including her mother, tried to argue, saying that Tommy came from dirty money, blood money. But, they probably didn’t suspect that Grace knew. She knew, but she didn’t care. The money didn’t matter, the things Tommy did behind the scenes didn’t matter. Grace embraced all of him, with all the murder, the blood money, the conspiracies. It all made up the man Grace loved.

Her mother had called her an ‘angel child’.  But, her mother seemed to have forgotten that demons were just as beautiful as angels and in that, lied their power.


	7. Esme Martha Shelby (née Lee)

 

_ The only happy marriages I know are arranged ones _

\- Lev Tolstoy

 

Out of her entire family, Esme was always described as the wild child. She was the loud mouthed one, the one most likely to get into a fight and dirty her skirts. For years before her father got married the second time, Esme had been playing alongside her brothers. With no sisters apart from her youngest, she’d learned everything from her brothers, to the way they spoke right down to the way they walked. 

And although her step-mother begged her father not marry Esme off, he had insisted that the only way that the sooner she left the house, the better. Even better, to ‘encourage’ the Shelbys to put forward a groom, her father even gave them a fucking car. As for Esme, she was told my her step-mother that she would be getting a man with four children and immediately, Esme thought of some sleazy old bloke and cried herself to sleep.

But, after a long talk with her step-mother, she eventually came out with determined strength to accept the fate she would be served. On the bright side, she thought, she quite liked children. Her kin being as bountiful as they were had a lot of children that Esme took care of over the years.

But, John was no sleazy old man. In fact, he was quite the opposite.

And although Esme was not of his own choice, he had claimed her as his own wife with no complaints and no questions asked. He cared her for her as his own family since they've spoken their vows and joined in blood. And in return, Esme cared for all his children as her own disregarding if they came of her flesh or not.

She loved all of her children equally, just as her step-mother had loved for both her birth children and husband’s children all the same. And although they were questions asked about her sudden arrival into their lives, the children called her their mother within months, no questions asked.

It had been hard to be John’s wife at times. She was not revered like Grace had been by Tommy. She was not listened to without question as Arthur had Linda. John would be out for nights on end, doing God knows what with God knows who. Esme turned a blind eye to it all. To the women that he'd eye down the streets and the stink of alcohol that reeked off him when he returned home late at night.

Esme cried herself to sleep months after she married him, after the honeymoon stage had settled in and she found herself pregnant. (Polly, when Esme informed her of the news, just sighed, “John and his fucking virility,” under her breath as she smoked a cigarette). She had been alone and innocent, barely twenty years old then. John wouldn't return home for a couple of nights and when he did, he'd only come seeking her with his needy, wanting hands, stinking of alcohol and cheap women’s perfume.

“ Esme”, he'd whisper into her ear, kissing it, in the dead of night, “ my wildflower”.

After Esme had gotten sick and tired of John’s bullshit, she brought the whole house down screaming at him for all the women who she knew he probably fucked with and all the nights in the pubs that he spent forgetting about her and their children. He had apologized to her that night and since then, he would always return home before nine on weekdays and there was no sign of stinky perfume on him. 

Esme had grown to love John for the moments that they shared in peace. Like the time they all went fishing as a family and John had been laughing with the children, something brilliant shining in his eyes. Or all those times he kissed her in victory in the nights in the pub after he won gambles with the rest of the Peaky boys. He kissed her so passionately, he touched her so ardently, she couldn't help but love him fiercely.

But, Esme was never sure if he loved her like she loved him. Sure, he respected her, she was his wife. They had a good fuck every couple of days, but apart from that, there was never really a time when John came out right open to her about his feelings.

And as routine settled in, as she began to work long hours in the betting shop, Esme had began to miss the freedom of being in the road. Something deep within her soul had called her to the fresh air, endless roads and forests and mountains. Just moving through the countryside, wind in her hair, all her family around her in caravans.

She's seen the look in John’s eyes as well, whenever they drove through the countryside. The gypsy side of him called him to the open and to no surprise, considering his strong gypsy roots. But, the Shelbys hid their gypsy roots well enough. It only came out in the wild of night, in the crooked smiles as they moved through the streets with the gait that no  _ gadze  _ could have.

It had gotten worse when she was pregnant with Tara. She felt constricted, she felt alone. All the sudden, John was out doing odd business with them fucking Russians, leaving her to deal with their toddler and a house of rowdy kids on her own. Snow helped her through it and even though she had been ashamed of her addiction and eventually quit it, sometimes it was the only thing that carried her through the day.

Only after seeing her slowly start falling apart did John really start paying more attention to her. He would hold sometimes in the night, as she whispered to him about how she missed the great green rolling fields. He’d kiss her hair and call his little wildflower, enrolling her in his strong arms.

Similarly, she listened to him talk about his school teacher and the whole Changretta business. He cried after the explosion with the six men, telling her that he had damned her and their children to hell. Esme shushed him and embraced him as he cried, her heart bleeding over with pain for him.

And when he was almost hanged in the noose and got out of it, he had ran first thing towards, lifting her up and kissing her, whispering ‘I love you’s into her lips.

It had always disgusted Esme how Tommy selfishly used John as his loyal little soldier to do all the dirty work for him. She hated him for all those manipulating little schemes and especially, she hated him for that bloody noose.

She couldn't stay in their house after John was murdered. She couldn't feel anything but devastation walking into that house. She had shed so many tears and screamed for so long, she believed herself empty for a long time. After seven long years spent with him, she felt like a part of her had been ripped out and crushed underneath her heel.

Her only hope of healing would be on the road, with the good people and fresh air. The kids would forget the haunted curse that followed with their family name and the fact that their father had been murdered in the throes of all these bloody wars.

But, Esme knew deep inside that she'd forever be remembered a Shelby. That the name she and all her children carried was already carved into their bones and if there was one thing that Esme was sure of is that blood was thicker than water.


	8. Ada Thorne (née Shelby)

 

_ I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night  _

\- Sarah Williams

 

Everybody feared Ada even before she was born.

There was no soul in Birmingham that would dare harm her without inflicting the wrath of her three elder brothers. Each on their own, Arthur, Tommy and John were all dangerous, but together they were lethal. 

Due to that, Ada grew up fairly isolated and she never really went out as much as all the other girls did. Boys in the neighborhood feared her and those that didn’t fear her feared her brothers.

Ada had grown up as a garden enclosed, being the sole girl of the almighty Shelbys. She only ever found a friend in Martha, her sister-in-law, but she had died during the war with four children crying over her grave. In the end, her only real friends were the children, her brother John’s children and Finn. It’s not like she didn’t spend all of her time with them. Polly and Ada were in charge of watching after them since their mothers were dead and their father's were carefree. They fed them, clothed them and took them to school. And by them, Ada mostly meant herself.

It often frustrated her, to be born in the filth of criminality but forced to look away by her brothers who sought to protect her. She was their little sister, their sweet little flower. But, even with her family’s efforts to keep Ada’s innocence, it was destroyed pretty early in her life. Her father left them when Ada was a child and her mother died not long after. She saw her brothers fight and steal and drink themselves till they dropped. She saw the remnants of the dark things they committed and was used as bait by their enemies to lure them into further danger.

Ada fell in love with Freddie because he did not hide anything from her. He knew she didn't need protecting, that she was strong and grown up. Freddie respected her and listened to her. He did not fear her brothers, he did not fear her. To him, she was just Ada. 

When Freddie left for war, he wrote to Ada everyday, detailing what they did and asking her of all kinds of different things. It was through those letters that Ada fell head over heels for him. He was so kind and patient, writing the simplest things in ways that made her feel as if she was born anew.

_ If you were a flower, Ada, you would be a white rose. I saw one when we were above ground the other day and I thought of you. I wanted to rip it off to send it to you over post but I ended up prickling myself and even had to get bandages. Its’ thorns are so thick, I imagine it can gauge a man’s eye out. Luckily though, I am a Thorne myself. Soon enough, I imagine you will be one too _ , he once wrote to Ada.

Ada laughed through her tears when she read that letter by him, buying a bouquet of white roses that day, tending to them as they slowly withered. 

During the wartime, Ada didn't know how she could go on sometimes. Polly was busy running the shop. Martha was tending the children till the day she died giving birth to one. It was difficult to think of her brothers and Freddie in battle, at the edge of death everyday, barely grazing by. It was unbearable, imagining getting a notice that one of them died.

So, when the wartime was over, Ada let go of all the reins. She fell easily into Freddie’s arms, holding him tight in fear that he might slip away. When they got married and had Karl, it was the happiest that Ada’s ever been. She still remembered the days when they skipped town, smiling widely till their ears, living the life. Ada remembered the breathlessness of love, feeling as if the whole entire world existed within Freddie. She was so intoxicated by love that she barely remembered those days with a clear head. It was like watching the pictures, as if the life she lived with Freddie was not a real one. She felt so liberated then, from her family, her name, the dirty city and dangerous people.

It was why Ada became so numb to it all when Freddie died. The patches of childlike innocence that she worked so hard to preserve withered away like white roses that she once tended for. She was left bare and bitter with only her son serving as her shining light. It was why she had distanced herself from her family. She was still chasing the dream of being like those other girls, wide-eyed and full of dreams. But, the truth was that Ada was not like those girls. Never was to begin with. 

She was a white rose, born amidst the dirt of Birmingham, a Shelby princess soaked in the blood of the sins that her family committed. Her marriage to Freddie didn’t change that. Her leaving didn’t change that. At the end, it was who she was. 

And others might be afraid but Ada was not.

Ada was never afraid.


End file.
